It seemed to me that my best plan was to cultivate Mr. Monk's society while he remained at The Lodge, and between whiles, to secure, if possible, a private interview with the girl. Apparently there was something on her mind, which might, or might not have to do with the Mootley murder. But in any case if she were only frank with me, I could gage her attitude more accurately. Once I gained her confidence, and she knew me to be a true friend, if not a lover, she might explain to me how her cloak came to be in the possession of the eloping lady. Of course--although, as I have said before--I persistently declined to believe this, she might be the eloping lady herself. But in any case, it was apparent that I could not move a single step with the clue of the cloak until I learned all about it from the woman I now so devotedly loved. Having more or less roughed out my plans, which were to see as much of Gertrude and her father as possible, I retired to bed and dreamed that I was a married man with a famous name and a large fortune. But the pleasant vision was rendered uncomfortable by the constant presence of a gigantic eye, which glared malignantly on me and on my schemes. I was glad when the morning broke. For the next two or three days I was pretty constantly at The Lodge, and became intimate with Mr. Monk, although I did not see so much of Gertrude as I desired. Her father, in his selfishness, would not leave us alone, and moreover, learning that I had a motor car, requisitioned the same to pay visits to surrounding friends. He went to Gattlingsands, to Tarhaven, and even proposed a visit to Mootley in order to inspect the scene of the crime. I was quite willing to go. "We can stop at Murchester and see my friend, Lord Cannington, who is in the gunners," I suggested. Mr. Monk started, and turned to ask questions. "You know Lord Cannington?" "Very well. I have known him for years. And you?" "Some friend of mine knows him," said Mr. Monk, quietly, although I fancied that he was secretly perturbed. "The name struck me as familiar. A charming young man, I believe. I wish Gertrude knew him. Should this money be recovered, I wish her to marry a title if possible." This suggestion did not suit me at all. Cannington was just the kind of inflammable youth to fall at Gertrude's feet, quite independent of the fortune. Much as I liked the boy, I did not see why I should search out fifty thousand pounds for him and allow him to marry the woman I loved. I therefore determined--selfishly perhaps--to keep Mr. Monk and Lord Cannington apart, and threw cold water on the journey to Murchester. And as Mr. Monk himself did not seem very keen about the visit, we did not go.